


planting the seedlings for the rest of our lives

by arachnistar



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnistar/pseuds/arachnistar
Summary: When Pamela and Harley meet at the start of college, something starts to bloom between them. [College AU]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for angiemahtinelli over on tumblr for the 3-sentence AU fic meme. Her prompt was "harley/pamela, they are assigned as college dorm-mates and meet at a 'freshman/first year' week thing. :)". I completely failed to keep it to 3 sentences, but that was always more of a recommendation than a rule.
> 
> Warning for underage drinking.

Her roommate arrives in a cacophony of sound, suitcase banging along, just as Pamela places the orchid, her last plant and a rare one at that, alongside the other plants at her window. Pamela ignores her roommate as she shifts the pot over a few inches and scrutinizes it. There, perfect. It’ll have just the right amount of sunlight to flourish. She finally turns to her roommate who’s already dropped her stuff in a pile on her side of the room and is now staring at Pamela and Pamela’s collection of plants. 

Harleen Quinzel, the email had said. Her light hair’s pulled into twin pigtails with streaks of cotton candy blue and pink darting through it. Her shirt reads _Bad Reputation_ with Joan Jett’s eyes below that and she’s chewing gum like it’s the final piece of her ensemble. Pamela approves of the shirt but isn’t sure what to make of her yet.

“I like your plants.” The roommate states with no preamble, nodding over at the collection on the window sill. Pamela glows at the compliment. “I can’t do anything with plants, I always end up killing them, but I have two dogs. Though I couldn’t bring them here.” Her face pulls into a pout and it’s very clear that if there had been a way, even if it had involved illegal smuggling, Harleen would have brought the animals here. Pamela’s rather glad she didn’t; she loves plants but she’s never been too certain about what to do with animals. “Anyway you must be Pamela. I’m Harleen, but nobody calls me that. It’s just Harley, like the motorcycle.” 

“Nice to meet you, Harley.” And it is. Anyone who says something nice about plants is alright in Pamela’s book, at least until they turn around and betray that. Which, granted, is not very hard to do, people call her judgmental and she calls it having standards, but Harley seems okay right now. 

Harley grins and it’s a lot like looking at the sun, her face just lights up that much, and it blindsides Pamela. “Ditto.”      


–

There’s a big, long speech by the chancellor of the university about the virtues of the school, the fortune in their education, the opportunities college provides and this college in particular. Pamela comes for the promised free food at the end of the event and plans to space out for the rest of it. 

Harley leans over and whispers in Pamela’s ear, breath warm against her skin. “They can stop with the high-and-mighty spiel. We already paid tuition.” 

“It’s just to inflate egos.” Pamela replies and then smirks. “Theirs and ours. We need to know how lucky we are to be here.”   


Harley smirks back. “So lucky that we should send them all our money after we graduate out of gratitude?”

“Exactly.” Pamela nods. “Even though we’ve already indebted ourselves taking out loans to pay them in the first place.”   


“Speak for yourself. I stole from them to pay for my tuition.”

It’s the way Harley says it, one hundred percent serious so Pamela doesn’t know for a moment whether she’s joking or actually a hardened criminal, that makes Pamela laugh. A couple heads turn their direction. Pamela glares - _what? you never laughed before_ \- until they turn back around.

–

“They’ve literally got a club for everything.” Harley remarks after about a minute of walking through the fair and passing such exciting stands as Costco Club, Rock-Paper-Scissors Club, and Squirrel Fishing Club (the last of which Harley promptly signs them up for). She pauses at an especially colorful stand handing out free red noses. “Hmm, clown club, reminds me of my ex.”   


“You dated a clown?” Pamela is less than impressed with this information. She has never liked clowns.  


“Part-time clown, part-time edgelord.” Harley nods. She goes quiet for a moment, long enough for Pamela to wonder if she genuinely misses him, and then adds in a quieter voice, “He was an asshat.”

“Sorry to hear about that.” She isn’t. 

Harley shrugs. “I’m over it.” 

Her tone makes it seem like maybe she isn’t entirely over it yet. Pamela isn’t sure if she should say something comforting, make a jab about how she’s better off without him anyway, or offer a distraction. She’s never really dealt with the break-ups of other people before… or her own really. She’s always the one who dumps people and she never cares afterwards. 

Then Harley’s eyes widen and she grabs Pamela’s arm tightly. “Look! The dance club is giving free dance lessons this week! We have to go.” She turns to Pamela with a pout, ready to fight her way to acquiescence, but Pamela is already laughing and nodding her head in agreement. 

“We’ll go.”    


–

They go to the dance class and learn how to salsa. Surprisingly both of them are pretty good at it. Harley says it’s because she used to be a gymnast; Pamela has no similar excuse, just a natural rhythm and grace. After they head to a party to show off their new moves.

They dance for hours, with each other and with another girl they met back at their dorm - Selina, who put up cat photos in her room, Pamela’s pretty certain she heard a mewing from under the bed too - and with whoever happens to pass by because it’s the sort of party where everyone is just moving and having a good time. There’s chips and beer and punch. Hours later, Harley is stumbling around, her dance movements having lost the gymnast grace she’d bragged about earlier. 

“How many drinks have you had?”  


Harley puts up two fingers, thinks about it, and guiltily raises a third. Pamela sighs and places an arm around her shoulders. (She isn’t sure when she got so… touchy. Usually she prefers to avoid physical contact but there’s something about Harley that makes it okay). “Let’s get you home.”

The cool air is a relief after the heat and sweat of the party. For a moment, Pamela closes her eyes and simply breathes in the fresh air before turning them both home. Harley talks the whole way. Mostly she doesn’t seem to expect a response, so Pamela lets her ramble. Harley talks about the beauty of the stars (there aren’t very many visible but Harley insists each one is beautiful) and the party (” _it was fun, really fun, wasn’t it?”_ ) and how utterly ridiculous human minds are (turns out she’s a psychology major) and her garbage ex (” _promise not to let me call him”_ ; Pamela promises).

At one point, Harley has to stop to throw up in a trash can. Pamela holds her pigtails and rubs her back through the process.  

“You had the same number of drinks as me.” Harley speaks slowly with a furrowed look of concentration on her face. The focus seems to be working, she’s slurring less at least. “How come you’re not so wobbly?”   


“I have a high tolerance for all kinds of poison. Alcohol included.” Pamela says, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Hmph.” And then she’s back to talking about the human mind and the way it absolutely fails at self-preservation sometimes. 

They arrive at the dorm. Pamela tiptoes them past the RA’s room, no use upsetting Diana over a little drunkenness, and successfully gets them back inside their room. She sits Harley down on the bed and gets her a glass of water. 

“Tonight was fun, yeah?”   


Pamela considers it and yes, apart from Harley throwing up, it was a good night. 

“Let’s have a toast.” Pamela raises an eyebrow at Harley because more alcohol is the last thing she needs in her body and Harley shakes her head. “I meant with _water_.” 

“Okay.” So Pamela pours them each a cup and then flops back on the bed by Harley. Harley raises her cup.   


“Here’s to many more nights like this one!”   


“To a good college experience!”   


–

At the graduation ceremony, Isley, Pamela is seated far from Quinzel, Harley, which is a damn shame because speeches are always better when you’re throwing sarcastic jabs back and forth about the proceedings. Pamela spends most of her time shifting in the heat and searching out Harley in the crowd to meet her eyes with an eyeroll at the stage. Finally the speeches are done and the students file up to receive their diplomas. 

Once Pamela takes the proffered scroll (it states that the real diploma will be in the mail in a few weeks because of course that’s how it works) and takes a photograph with a professor, she slips out of line and waits at the side of the stage. Some people cast her curious looks as they pass, but most of them are occupied with the grandeur of the moment. For the people who aren’t heading on to more education, the people who aren’t Harley or Pamela who both need grad school to go anywhere in their fields, this is it. The end of the line. Good-bye schooling, hello working world. And even though Pamela’s education is continuing next fall and she’s never put much stock in ceremonies, she feels that same thrill of excitement about the end of college. 

Finally, “Harleen Quinzel,” rings out and Harley is grinning as she accepts her fancy piece of paper and then she’s coming down the stairs. Pamela can tell the exact moment Harley spots her by the way her eyes light up and her grin, impossible as it may seem, widens.

“Ivy, you waited!”   


“I always do.”   


Harley steps down and Pamela steps forward, so they meet in the middle for a kiss, sloppy with the euphoria of the moment. 

“We made it.”   


“I never doubted it.”  


After there’s a reception for the graduating seniors and their families. Harley comes to Pamela with two glasses of water.

“Let’s toast.”   


“We’ll need a new phrase now that we’re out of college.” Pamela reminds Harley before she can launch into the usual spiel.   


Harley frowns. They’re both quiet for a moment, thinking about the enormity of that, of how the future stretches out in front of them, laden with possibility and promise. 

“To the rest of our lives?” Harley suggests. 

Pamela smiles and clinks their glasses, “To the rest of our lives!”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://proofthatihaveaheart.tumblr.com/).


End file.
